


Linguistics

by meegey



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meegey/pseuds/meegey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a coarse language, but it sounded so good coming from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Linguistics

**A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...**

**STAR WARS**

**...**

**...**

**...**

The wide, well-adorned corridors and offices of the Republic Executive Building could become unnervingly quiet during the late, empty hours on Coruscant. Tonight was one such night.

Fake lights seemed to illuminate the massive building's interior even more than the pleasant gleam of daylight. Anakin, who had only just returned to the city-planet, almost found himself missing the typical thrum of Senators and Jedi. These had now been replaced by the silent obedience of the sparsely posted Senate Guards, and the occasional patrol thereof, who'd offer no more than a salute and a respectable "General," as he passed them by.

Upon hearing his " _summons_ ", he'd hopped in his speeder and dashed over the glinting, living city. He was yet some minutes from his destination, but his heart still raced with anticipation. Those eager thoughts interrupted only by the sounds of his boots stepping along the thin, red carpets, and the brush of cloth against cloth from his earth-toned Jedi robe – noise now painfully apparent amidst the silence of the halls.

Anakin had been made aware that his muse had buried herself in senatorial chores tonight, and would stay late, but late even to this hour? He was surprised, but did not mind, of course. The frequency of his orders as of late had for the most part kept him far from Coruscant, and farther still from her, and he was grateful, no, he was  _longing_  for a chance to see her again, even if it was in the droll Senate office. After all, they'd often arranged to meet there at times when privacy eluded them. It wasn't Anakin's favourite spot, but it would do in a pinch.

By the Force how he wanted to see her... And by Force how he wanted to do more than just see her.

The excited Jedi picked up the pace without realising it, almost kicking down an oncoming sweeper droid in the process. The small droid swerved violently around him with a high-pitched whirr of panic and protest, not unlike Artoo often did.

"Sorry, little guy," Anakin apologised sincerely.

Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo paced with poorly-concealed eagerness around the circumference of her broad, rectangular desk. The office computer sat atop it all the while reminding her every second that she was there to work. She had tried admirably, but the thought of a chance to see her Anakin now that he was back tugged her fervently away from the pale-blue holographic monitors. She convinced herself that she deserved to indulge at least this one temptation, and called him to her office. Had he missed her as much as she had him? Why hadn't he arrived already? Was he in trouble? The insecurities which so rarely emerged in public sometimes became all too real when it came to Anakin Skywalker. She brushed her concerns aside with her deep-seated dignity and confidence, stopped pacing, and picked up the small Versafunction88 datapad at the corner of her desk. Sitting herself in one of her larger, more comfortable chairs, she began to read the unfamiliar words off the datapad.

"Kei... na... ta," she said slowly and carefully, before correcting herself, still unsure. "Kei... nata ni."

After various dissatisfying revisions of her pronunciation, she moved on impatiently to the next part, muttering a curse. But whether she was cursing the Twi'lek language or her own ineptitude, she wasn't sure. "Do'ok... Do ohk. Do ohk?"

"Kei'nata ni. Do ohk Anakin Skywalker," the figure in the doorway proudly blurted.

"A-Anakin...!" Padmé barked, fumbling her datapad with a mixture of surprise and excitement, before standing and gathering her composure. With a clearing of her throat, the politician corrected herself. "General Skywalker... it's about time. You know, you really shouldn't ambush a Republic Senator like that."

"Senator Amidala," Anakin responded with exaggerated formality, bow included. "Please forgive my intrusion and tardiness. You wanted to see me?"

Stepping from the glare of the hallway into the Senator's surprisingly dimly lit office, Anakin was instantly reminded of the sheer radiance of his wife. The glow of the monitor prominently accentuated the rich blue hues of her gown, which was adorned so gracefully with a myriad of swirls and other captivating, indescribable patterns.

Dropping her façade with a heartfelt smile, Padmé took her own strides towards the man she worried endlessly over; the man she loved.

"Ani..." It was all she could do to hold back a dam of emotions that felt so ready to break. "... I needed to see you." Her voice barely above a whisper.

They met each other with an affectionate embrace. Their arms wrapped protectively around each other for what felt like mere seconds, but lasted well into a minute. Padmé leadned her small, lissome frame securely into Anakin, and it compelled him to pull her closer. Her sweet perfume drifted over him, mixing with her own appealing aroma. What an incredible scent he discovered her to have tonight. The habit she had of pressing the soft, inviting curves of her breasts against his tough chest stirred and reassured him, and reminded him just how much he'd missed not only her amity and her love, but also her companionship.

Without word or warning, Padmé's lips were upon his. Stricken by the rush of desire, the couple firmly sealed their desperate mouths together, solely intent at that moment on recalling each other's familiar tastes and contours. Their tongues dancing, Padmé was unable to prevent the escape of a soft, sensual whimper.

Flustered momentarily at the honesty of her body, Padmé pulled slowly away from the kiss.

"I missed you, too," Anakin confessed, adding the cheeky smile that never failed to bewitch her. Although she'd never tell him that. His ego was, at times, swollen enough. "Trying to learn Ryl, then, my love?" he asked her, starting toward the tall, grey seat upon which Padmé had let the datapad drop. His hand slid gently off the small of her back as he moved. She wanted it to return there.

"I overheard Senator Orn Free Taa speaking with some representatives from Ryloth," Padmé answered simply. "I've always thought of it as a beautiful language, so I decided to practice."

Anakin picked up the datapad and reviewed it. "You're usually far more pragmatic than–"

" _And_ ," the Senator interrupted with satirical pomp, "It would be of great benefit to my political career, and doubtless to the good people of Naboo, if I were able to better communicate with my fellow Senators and their subjects. Wouldn't you agree, love?"

"Of course, my lady," Anakin conceded, with another saucy smile of his. Despite her satire, the spirit of sheer nobility that ever clung to Padmé gave her an aura of authority truly befitting her old charge as Queen of Naboo. The young Jedi was impossibly charmed by it.

One of Coruscant's moons and had crept its way into view through the grand, magnificent windows behind Padmé's desk, and appeared neatly perched atop one of Coruscant's larger skyscrapers, disparate against the fading twilight of the sky and the city. The relaxing, inconsistent patter of new rain only served to heighten the romantic atmosphere. Anakin admired the view, now more than ever. Beside him, Padmé removed the various pins and bands that kept her stylish bun intact. Loosening the knot in her mane caused her stunning brown curls to cascade onto her shoulders.

"Regardless," Anakin said, "I'm sure the people will still love you once they discover you have no talent for languages."

Padmé jabbed him in the side, trying to hide her amusement, and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "And what do you know about languages, Anakin?"

"Well I was raised on Tatooine, after all," he bragged. "Huttese and Jawaese are but two in my repertoire."

'You don't have a " _repertoire_ ",' Padmé objected, striding towards the self-proclaimed linguist.

"Uma ji muna," Anakin fluently retaliated with a smirk, knowing the Huttese words would fall on oblivious ears. Then, switching effortlessly to Jawaese, he added with equally unheeded sincerity, "Gomjam gea nawem."

"That's enough of that, Mr. Linguist Extraordinaire." Padmé teased. "It's all very impressive, but they're not exactly pleasant languages to listen to." Despite the indifference in her tone, she found herself somewhat envious of his talent. Again, not that she would ever tell him that.

"Oh?" Anakin was almost convincingly offended as he took Padmé's slender hips in his hands. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

She blinked with comfort at being once again in the safety of this man's grasp. She could feel his strong, but gentle grip through the thin fabric of her stately dress. His thumbs resting pleasingly on her smooth stomach, towards her belly button. Struggling to stop herself from surrendering to the tall, handsome man before her, she ventured a flirt, intending every subsequent word to drive the pair to intimacy.

"A girl wants to hear things that are romantic." Padmé searched his face as she spoke. She was on tiptoes now, her arms falling lightly around his neck. Her deep brown eyes finally settled on Anakin's mouth, still noticeably moist from their previous kiss, before she continued, barely even hearing the words she said any more. "Those languages don't exactly roll sweetly off one's tongue."

Anakin loved the peculiar, sensual emphasis she placed on that last word. The way her mouth hung open at the end, revealing the tips of beautiful white teeth and the faint shine of her tongue lurking behind them enchanted him, and he knew he wanted nothing more than to taste her again. Every part of her. The thought aroused him more than he expected. He knew she wanted him, too, and he liked the thought even more.

"As you wish, my lady," Anakin finally husked, fully intent on accepting the challenge Padmé.

Their lips closed around each other once more, and they sank rapidly and ravenously into passion. A slow, deep massage of curling tongues at first, the kiss came to envelop them entirely, and the two figures began to sway and grind subtly against each other. Padmé felt the firm bulge of his sex, confined within his robes, press into her belly. But it wasn't nearly enough - she wanted to feel flesh.

"Help me out of the dress, Anakin," she pleaded breathlessly. "Now."

Terribly eager to indulge her command, Anakin's hands roamed with deliberate precision up Padmé's elegant back. One of them located the zip at the top of the dress he'd been appreciating earlier. Now he just wanted it gone and forgotten.

Whispering what sounded like a poem into her small, round ear, he slowly unzipped the infuriating barrier between him and his prize. 'Bu kotky dee raca doth tee matmanu che kae sewapka mo sakhee bai kae poda mo cohkamhanonka.'

Padmé was surprised at the level of eroticism he could imbue in such a coarse dialect. It was rather impressive, really. She didn't understand the words, but she didn't need to. The undoubtedly equally erotic meaning helped quench her thirst for verbal seduction. She let Anakin undress her, before aiding him in throwing off his own meddling robes.

The sight of Padmé's lithe, naked body in front him drove Anakin mad. The exquisite curves that hid so routinely beneath her grand frocks were now bare and waiting, her delectable, rose-coloured nipples becoming visibly rigid. He followed the definition of her well-toned stomach down between her long legs, and noted that she was recently trimmed, no doubt in anticipation of him. Anakin was bewildered with lust, almost disbelieving that this woman, this vision he'd dedicated his heart to, was his. That her love was his. She shifted her weight, causing a gentle bounce of her breasts.

"Padmé..." he begged.

She glanced up at her husband, overcome by the extent of the devotion she saw staring back at her. Wasting no time covering the short distance between them, she pressed her bare body to his. She took the Jedi's mechanical arm in her hand – a cruel and yet beautiful reminder of the things he gave up for the galaxy, and for her. Her other hand met his smooth abdomen, and slid over the rolling muscles of his six-pack down to his crotch, where she began to stroke him. He was already so hard for her – but not hard enough, she decided decisively.

Responding to her touch, Anakin inhaled in a sharp breath of air. The muscles in his thighs and groin tensed each time Padmé found a particularly sensitive spot, her dainty bust, slightly paler than the rest of her complexion, rocking with each motion of her arm. He rested his forehead against hers and cupped one of her blossoming cheeks with his free hand, drawing a thumb over her bottom lip in adoration.

She was looking up at him now – deep into his expressive blue gaze, and drinking in the ecstasy she saw in them. Her thin, delicate fingers caressed and tugged in a rhythm Anakin found sinfully potent. They rubbed their way around his glans, collecting and spreading the trickling beginnings of his pre-cum between her fingers with each stroke, the tips of her nails occasionally tickling and teasing his scrotum. Anakin felt himself begin to throb under the profound stimulation. He opened his mouth to speak, but, as if keenly aware of his wordless desires, Padmé was already leading him to the front of her large, opulent desk. She propped him against it, and crouched down, her head level with his gorgeous erection. She playfully lapped clean the sticky residue on her fingers, grinning brazenly up at him, before passionately licking the length of his cock in a single, smooth stroke. Anakin's teased shaft twitched on her damp tongue in response.

Padmé started slowly at first, wringing yet more arousal out of him with soft kisses along the base and tip of his cock, tempting him with the urge to to dip it entirely in. She didn't give him the chance. Taking a moment to enjoy more of the light, salty taste she'd manipulated out of him, she sucked, her cheeks hollowing, on the thick head inside her mouth, her tongue tracing spectacular circles around it.

"Stars, Padmé. You really are an angel." Anakin groaned, dazed.

Locking eyes with him from below, she slowly sank the full length of him into her mouth, holding it there for a few moments while studying the contorted expression of unadulterated bliss on his face. The way he could hardly take his eyes off her, as though he needed to see to believe what she was doing to him, stirred something in her. She was instantly enamoured of that look, proof of the extent to which she could please him, and couldn't resist the urge to touch herself. Her own pleasure manifesting itself in the strangled moans and gasps that crawled out between the lusciously wet sounds of his friction through her throat, she slid her massaging fingers over her swelling sex.

The rain was falling slightly heavier now, and a loud speeder zoomed by off in the distance. Padmé had taken a second from working on her lover to breathe, and was about to start again when he touched her shoulders and leant her back onto the ornate carpet. The floor was quite cold, so Anakin gathered his shirt and robe from among the sprawl of hurriedly removed garments and shoes, and placed the gown under Padmé's supine body, before bunching up the shirt and resting it under her head. He lay beside her and wasted no time snaking his way down her with kisses, starting at her delicate neck, and moving on to her flushed bosom, as her hands groped his biceps.

He took one of her hard, pert nipples in his mouth, rolling it, and flicking it, and nibbling it, before giving her other the same attention. Anakin could tell Padmé was getting very heady. Her restrained mewls, and the way her body oscillated gingerly, as though grinding into the pleasure of some invisible force, urged him to accommodate it. Still nipping at her breast, he nudged his hand between her thighs, and pressed down gently. Padmé instantly lurched at the touch.

She's so wet, Anakin thought to himself, as he teased her opening with a fingertip, galvanizing even more of her exquisite wetness, and kneading it into her clit.

He slipped a finger into her. Then a second, barely giving her time to gasp. So kindled with arousal, she clenched uncontrollably around his deep fingers, while they pressed and thrust within her.

"Ani, talk to me..." she purred.

"Wa raca baa poda..." Anakin merrily complied, removing his lips from her now glistening breasts, and continuing the kisses down her torso. "... lwaa roachee... bu wodhepa masii." Interspersing the words between each peck of her abdomen, he made his way to her groin.

The words' significance mattered little to Padmé at this point. The sound of Ani's voice, the passion, was her drug.

Anakin withdrew his drenched fingers, and his tongue took their place. Padmé howled instantly, not realising how loud it'd be, and cut it short with a gasp. She bit her lip, determined to prevent another outburst. Tightly grabbing the thick waves of Anakin's hair, she looked down at him and, angling his head in various directions, she undulated her pussy against his mouth. Her trembling thighs squeezed and parted around his head. He knew her every spot, her every need. His adoring tongue would glide out of her, lightly licking around her reddened lips, teasing her just enough before suckling firmly on her throbbing clit.

She came, shivering and struggling beautifully with the desire to loose a sound, but she was overwhelmed. A choked cry flew out of her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her ragged breathing as she heaved, her taste seeping out of her and running onto the tongue still inside her.

"I need to have you," Anakin said with matter-of-fact resolve, as he got to his knees.

"I'm yours," she agreed, terse and out of breath.

Anakin parted her legs, allowing him room to position himself between them. He laid himself atop her, careful to support his weight with his arms so as not to hurt the fragile woman beneath him. Rubbing it briefly against her slit, Padmé slowly worked his thick erection inside her with a hand, almost forgetting to breathe as she watched and felt it disappear into her warm, velvety body. They were one again at last.

The couple moved tenderly, their hips initially finding a steady tempo. Anakin glided through her, the hard shape of him perfectly wrapped and pulled in by Padmé's rippling channel, as though he was made to fit for her. As though every fibre of their soul and their body belonged together, established long before universe began. Their faces close, Anakin felt her warm, shuddering breath against his lips, her searing eyes fiercely beaming back at him.

"Harder," Padmé whispered, even as they both exhaled a sharp groan of pleasure, finding each other's spots.

What began as a gentle blending of affection grew to be something more. Soft whimpers became loud, elongated moans and gently grinding hips became an audible, pulsating collision of haunches. The pair's subdued rapture became almost animalistic with hedonism.

Padmé's fingernails grew into claws as they begged and scraped at Anakin's muscular back, the pain only heightening his arousal. Dragging white scratches down him, she found one his buttocks and squeezed it firmly, her nails digging securely into his tight, pounding backside.

Anakin's ears seemed to be roaring. He began to lose his self-control – his thrusts becoming pure, carnal intent as he ransacked her. Glistening sweat gave his hair and skin and beautiful sheen, and the hot, musky flavour of his perspiration intoxicated Padmé to such indescribable arousal. She arched her back off the dark robe and up against Anakin, requiring his scent on and around her. The erect nipples of her teetering breasts kissed and grazed his broad torso as she clung to him.

The sudden change in her posture, however, was enough to drive Anakin to the brink. Padmé's hips, now perfectly aligned with his as she clasped herself to him, halted their movement. He felt the folds of her soaked insides open up, provoking him, taunting him to lunge yet deeper, harder. And he did so without reservation. Her clenching pussy welcomed him as he hammered himself into her with aggressive determination. Sublime, erotic sounds roared out of her, permeating the office and drowning out the music of the rain with a lewd crescendo of euphoria. Not caring who heard any more, their minds utterly blank save for this moment, the couple tensed in unison as Anakin relinquished and pulsed his climax into her, a long, heavy groan accompanying it. She accepted it all, each burst of liquid fire pooling ever thicker into her midsection taking her towards towards the edge of some deep, unknown waterfall.

Anakin could see her attempting to cope with her pristine, terrifying ecstasy, with the urge to let go. Padmé's body quivered uncontrollably with spasms of pleasure among stifled gasps.

Overwhelmed, staring at some infinitely distant point past Anakin, she came again.

It was very late now. Through the office windows the rain still fell and the city's lights still sparkled fervently amidst the darkness of the sky, but it was as quiet and as peaceful as it was ever going to be on Coruscant.

The bright, lonely moon had lifted from its perch and floated higher above the bustle of the planet. It had taken some time for Anakin and Padmé to recover. They had spent several minutes on the floor of the Senator's office, content in each other's arms, panting and giggling together – not that either of them knew what exactly was so amusing. Now they both sat upon Padmé's desk, the luminous blue monitor still glowing beside them, and stared out at the city-planet. Only partially dressed, and sharing the Jedi's warm, hooded mantle between them, they were content to merely enjoy each other's company for a while longer.

A sudden thought struck Padmé. A question. She smiled demurely to herself as she pondered all the romantic possibilities of the answer.

Turning to Anakin, she asked him, "Those things you were saying to me, in the other languages, while we made love... What did they mean?"

Knowing the jig was up, Anakin kept his gaze on the vista before him. He was quiet for a moment, before he answered, offhandedly. "Oh, that. I was just educating you on the fundamental rules of the Boonta Eve Classic podrace..."

Padmé was deathly silent, her head shaking in defiance. With a look of incredulity, her agape mouth worked, trying to find the words to say.

Smiling to himself, Anakin planted a tender kiss on her lips.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> There you go.
> 
> Maybe I'm just a dirty perv, (I know I'm most definitely am perv, but maybe that's all I am?) but I always felt like Anakin and Padmé between the end of AOTC to sometime before ROTS had sex like mynocks in heat given every single chance.
> 
> Really though, considering the strains they go through during ROTS I feel like they deserved many, upon many happy-lovey-dovey-sexy moments together.
> 
> Reviews. I live for them reviews. Feed me!
> 
> \- Garnet Fui


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